swiftly turned in our
favor.
I found myself always outnumbered and in the thick of the
fighting. I had no opportunity of using the bow in these close quarters without
danger of felling our own men, so I fought with my knives, although they were a
sorry defense against the spears and throwing axes of the Skeltai.
I became so absorbed in the business of staying alive it was
some time before I realized the fighting was dying down and that more savages
than outlaws lay bloodied on the ground. The sudden shrill sounding of a horn
spit the night air, echoing over the din of battle, and at the signal, the
Skeltai warriors abandoned the fight and drew back into the woods.
Dradac and Ada appeared at my elbow, and the three of us
followed after the retreating enemy. I knew how they meant to depart, and I had
no intention of missing this chance to see their magical portal in use. We
followed the sounds of the enemy crashing through the underbrush until we came
to a small clearing where patches of moonlight filtered down through the sparse
treetops. Here we stopped dead. Ranks of Skeltai warriors were crowding into
the clearing and appeared to be waiting for something, so we stayed out of
sight.
Even before I saw it, I sensed the strong amount of magic
being employed in this place. The portal stood before us, a circle of blue fire
etched in the earth. One moment it was nothing more than a glowing ring, the
next, it came to life. I felt something I had never experienced before, a
rippling in the well of the world’s magic like a heavy stone being cast into a
pool. I reeled with dizziness at the magical waves surging out from the portal.
I caught a brief glimpse of the forest floor on the other
side of the portal and beyond this, a cadaverous old man with pale skin dressed
in filthy rags and feathers, long wisps of thin yellow hair swirling around him
in a wind, a wooden staff in his outstretched hand. Despite the opaqueness of
his eyes, he seemed to be looking straight at me across the distance.
A shiver ran down my spine. Was I looking at a Skeltai
shaman?
I had little time to wonder. The magic collapsed in on
itself, and the image winked out, both the old man and the other forest
disappearing to be replaced by a dark man-sized void through which swirled
clouds of roiling fog were carried upon a soft breath of cold air. As the
wind stirred my hair, chills danced over my skin, and not from the cold. I knew
this was no ordinary winter breeze but a bitter gust straight from the Black
Forest.
The Skeltai warriors wasted no time in stampeding through
the portal, disappearing into the black void. Watching them, I thought for the
first time I understood Hadrian’s feelings about the misuse of the Natural
talent. Too much magic became a dangerous thing in the hands of the
unscrupulous.
As the last warrior disappeared, I recovered my senses in
time to dive forward. The portal was closing, the circle of darkness shrinking when
I dropped to my knees and thrust my hand into the blackness. I felt nothing but
cold air and emptiness. I would have thrown my whole body through next, but the
magic activating the portal was already dying, and I didn’t know if I would
make it through or wind up trapped in someplace that was neither here nor
there.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dradac appeared beside me, and
grabbing my shoulders, dragged me back from the hole. I shook loose of his
group and pushed him away, but it was too late. The portal was gone, leaving in
its place a simple ring, the blue glow already beginning to fade from its
runes. Dozens of feet had churned the surrounding soil, their prints leading
into that circle. No tracks led away.
Even as I stretched out with my talent, I felt the last of
the magic dissipating around the circle, leaving me to clutch at insubstantial
wisps already evaporating on the breeze.
I had seen it this time, had witnessed the workings of the
enemy instead of coming in after it was all over. Yet still I
favor.
I found myself always outnumbered and in the thick of the
fighting. I had no opportunity of using the bow in these close quarters without
danger of felling our own men, so I fought with my knives, although they were a
sorry defense against the spears and throwing axes of the Skeltai.
I became so absorbed in the business of staying alive it was
some time before I realized the fighting was dying down and that more savages
than outlaws lay bloodied on the ground. The sudden shrill sounding of a horn
spit the night air, echoing over the din of battle, and at the signal, the
Skeltai warriors abandoned the fight and drew back into the woods.
Dradac and Ada appeared at my elbow, and the three of us
followed after the retreating enemy. I knew how they meant to depart, and I had
no intention of missing this chance to see their magical portal in use. We
followed the sounds of the enemy crashing through the underbrush until we came
to a small clearing where patches of moonlight filtered down through the sparse
treetops. Here we stopped dead. Ranks of Skeltai warriors were crowding into
the clearing and appeared to be waiting for something, so we stayed out of
sight.
Even before I saw it, I sensed the strong amount of magic
being employed in this place. The portal stood before us, a circle of blue fire
etched in the earth. One moment it was nothing more than a glowing ring, the
next, it came to life. I felt something I had never experienced before, a
rippling in the well of the world’s magic like a heavy stone being cast into a
pool. I reeled with dizziness at the magical waves surging out from the portal.
I caught a brief glimpse of the forest floor on the other
side of the portal and beyond this, a cadaverous old man with pale skin dressed
in filthy rags and feathers, long wisps of thin yellow hair swirling around him
in a wind, a wooden staff in his outstretched hand. Despite the opaqueness of
his eyes, he seemed to be looking straight at me across the distance.
A shiver ran down my spine. Was I looking at a Skeltai
shaman?
I had little time to wonder. The magic collapsed in on
itself, and the image winked out, both the old man and the other forest
disappearing to be replaced by a dark man-sized void through which swirled
clouds of roiling fog were carried upon a soft breath of cold air. As the
wind stirred my hair, chills danced over my skin, and not from the cold. I knew
this was no ordinary winter breeze but a bitter gust straight from the Black
Forest.
The Skeltai warriors wasted no time in stampeding through
the portal, disappearing into the black void. Watching them, I thought for the
first time I understood Hadrian’s feelings about the misuse of the Natural
talent. Too much magic became a dangerous thing in the hands of the
unscrupulous.
As the last warrior disappeared, I recovered my senses in
time to dive forward. The portal was closing, the circle of darkness shrinking when
I dropped to my knees and thrust my hand into the blackness. I felt nothing but
cold air and emptiness. I would have thrown my whole body through next, but the
magic activating the portal was already dying, and I didn’t know if I would
make it through or wind up trapped in someplace that was neither here nor
there.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dradac appeared beside me, and
grabbing my shoulders, dragged me back from the hole. I shook loose of his
group and pushed him away, but it was too late. The portal was gone, leaving in
its place a simple ring, the blue glow already beginning to fade from its
runes. Dozens of feet had churned the surrounding soil, their prints leading
into that circle. No tracks led away.
Even as I stretched out with my talent, I felt the last of
the magic dissipating around the circle, leaving me to clutch at insubstantial
wisps already evaporating on the breeze.
I had seen it this time, had witnessed the workings of the
enemy instead of coming in after it was all over. Yet still I
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